


The Perils of Being Summoned in the Year 2011

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Facebook: The Dark Lords Poison, Fun or Fright Fest 2020, Gen, Halloween, This whole thing is silly on purpose, You might just end up feeling sorry for Voldy after reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: Voldemort has been stuck in limbo for an unknown length of time, but finally he finds a way to escape back into the world of the living. He'll finally have his revenge!... Or will he?
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7
Collections: Fun or Fright





	The Perils of Being Summoned in the Year 2011

**Author's Note:**

> Alphabet love to TriDogMom 💕

* * *

  
He had no idea where or even _when_ he was, just that he had been in the Nothing for a long time. He still had his memories of Before, but they were painful and bewildering.

Once, he had been a powerful wizard.

Once, he had been on the way to achieving his goal of world domination.

Once, he had killed the Boy Who Lived.

But something had gone wrong. Somehow, Potter had come back to life, challenged him, taunted him, aggrieved him relentlessly with foul lies, and _bested_ him. It was a most grievous insult, and he was going to make Potter and all those he loved pay dearly. Just as soon as he could figure out a way to escape this limbo state.

But wait! What was that? He could hear sounds. He concentrated hard. They were voices. Young, high-pitched. Children. Giggling inanely over something. If he could only focus his energy, he might be able to make out what they were saying.

_“Helen! This is so lame! It’s a kid’s game!”_

_“Oh come on, Lisa. It’s just a bit of fun. What else are we supposed to do on Halloween?”_

_“Uh…I can answer that. Eat a bunch of candy, of course!”_

_“Sarah, there’s a huge bowl of candy right next to you…!”_

_“I KNOW that, but it tastes better if it’s from trick-or-treating!”_

_“Don’t you think we’re a bit old for that?”_

_“Like how we’re too old to be playing with a Ouija board, you mean?”_

_“Guys, come on! Just put your fingers on the planchette!"_

Now the girls - young teenagers, no doubt, and American, judging by their accents - were groaning and laughing. 

What was a… what did they call it? Weegee board? What did it do?

Now one of them was intoning, _“Oh, spirits, heed our call! If you are here, speak!”_

He suddenly felt a strange sensation, as if he was being pulled, drawn, towards the voices. He realised he could see a flat board with letters, numbers and words on it. In the middle was a thing shaped like a triangle, with a small hole in the centre. He could sense, rather than see, the fingers of the girls balanced around the edges of the triangle thing. Something was compelling him to direct his energy into the triangle, to make it shift. Could he… could he _communicate_ with these girls?

Focusing as much as he could, he willed himself into the triangle, thought of the message he wanted to send, and _pushed._

_“Oh my gosh..! It’s moving!”_

_“Helen, YOU’RE moving it!”_

_“I’m NOT!”_

_“Shush! What’s it saying?”_

The chorus of voices started to spell out the letters of the words he was so desperate to convey.

_“I…a...m...l...o...r...d...v…o...l...d...e...m...o...r...t.”_

_“I am Lord Voldemort? AMY! YOU did that!”_

_“I did not!”_

_“You DID! You love Harry Potter!”_

What? These girls know Potter? And one loves him? At last, a chance to get his revenge! 

He concentrated again, determined to send another message.

_“It’s moving again!”_

_“R...e...l...e...a...s...e...m...e.”_

Peals of laughter suddenly rang out. _“Release me? Oh boy, this is too good!”_

_“Why do you guys have to ruin everything?!”_

_“Oh Helen, come on! It’s just a bit of fun! You don’t really believe in this stuff, do you?”_

_“Well…”_

_“Okay, then, if you’re not convinced, we’ll do what the board says. We’ll release the spirit, do a seance—”_

_“NO! Are you NUTS? Haven’t you seen all those movies where it all goes wrong and everyone dies?”_

_“They’re horror movies, Amy! They aren’t real.”_

_“But…”_

_“Nothing’s going to happen! Let’s just do it and then we can watch Red Riding Hood!”_

_“Fine…”_

He could sense something happening, some bustle of activity. Then he felt a more powerful pull. There was a ritual circle, and it was imbibing him with energy, with essence! It was pulling him forward! Yes! He surged towards the growing shapes, forcing himself into being once again.

All around him, gasps of disbelief. The circle had broken, but that didn’t matter. He was back. He could feel it. He had limbs again, eyes, a mouth… He focused on _seeing,_ and shapes swam before him, solidifying into a group of awestruck girls.

“Oh. My. GOD.” one exclaimed. “It actually _looks_ like Lord Voldemort!”

“I _knew_ it was you who moved the planchette, Amy!”

“It looks just like in the movies!"

Voldemort scowled. _Why_ were they not cowering in fear? Screaming? They knew who he was, they _recognised_ him. And what were these _movies_ they were babbling about?

“Bow before me, insignificant worms!” he commanded. “I am your master! Give me my wand!”

But to his utter astonishment, the girls looked at each other then started positively screaming with laughter, leaning up against each other for support, holding their stomachs.

One of them sat up, hiccuping, and wiped at her streaming eyes. “This is the best prank ever!” she declared. “How did you do it? Is it a hologram?” She compounded this bizarre question by ducking her head down to _look under his robes!_ The _insolence!_ He would teach her! He reached out to curse her - he would do it wandlessly, if he had to! - but nothing happened.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, somewhat alarmed at how querulous his voice sounded. It just didn’t make sense! He had been freed at last, but these mere _children_ did not fear him, and to make matters worse, he couldn’t feel his magic. His mind whirled as he tried to think of what to do.

 _“What is the meaning of this?”_ One of the girls echoed mockingly, rasping her voice. The others exploded into fresh giggles. This was… an outrage!

Suddenly he seized on an idea. He would go and find one of his remaining followers…! But who? He’d killed that snivelling rat Wormtail himself, and Snape besides; Bellatrix had been slain by that blood traitor Weasley woman; and Barty Crouch Jr had been given to the Dementors. He suspected most of his other more loyal - or at least, more _cowed -_ followers had either been killed during the final battle or captured.

Malfoy? If not the man, then the boy? Not his first choice, or even his tenth, but if anyone could avoid Azkaban or death, it would be the boy. Well, needs must.

He focused on his destination and made himself float through the air. He realised he was in some sort of house, and although he had no idea yet how to find the Malfoy brat, he was certain he would be able to do it if he could just get outside.

“Where are you going, moldy Voldy?” one of the girls called out. Voldemort shook with indignation - well, as much as this ethereal form could shake. Without looking back, he continued forward until he passed through a wall, another room, a second wall and finally found himself outside.

It took him a moment to realise there were many people milling about, and what was worse, he was quite certain they were Muggles. He thought the awful girls inside the house must be Muggles, too, given their complete ignorance of his might and power. 

But then again, they _knew_ who Potter was. How? Was the Statute of Secrecy dissolved? Did Muggles know about magic now? He shuddered with revulsion at the thought. 

Glancing around, he realised many of the Muggles seemed to be wearing...disguises of some sort. He frowned in confusion for a moment before remembering that one of the girls, before he had been called into the triangle, had mentioned Halloween, candy, and trick or treating. That must be the reason - they were American, after all.

But still, something wasn’t quite right. He focused, trying to make sense of the costumes before he realised that they were dressed like _him!_ Black robes, a smooth head, pale skin, slits for a nose… were they _ridiculing_ him? He, Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the mighty, most powerful Dark wizard _in the world?_ How _dare_ they..! He would _Avada_ them all, just as soon as he found his wand and figured out how to call his magic again…! But for now, he would make them take off those deeply offensive costumes.

He focused as hard as he could, willing himself into a slightly more solid form, then shuffled over to a small child wearing his likeness. “Take that off, filthy Muggle! How dare you disparage me!”

The child flinched back, but the adult with them stepped forward. “Hey, you pervert! Get away from my kid before I kick your ass!” He turned to glance at the other Muggles wandering about and, raising his voice, called, “Hey, everyone! This pervert tried to grab my kid!”

Voldemort realised with mounting alarm that he was in a very large crowd of Muggles, and they had malice in their eyes as they closed in on him. Willing himself ethereal again, he hurriedly floated through them, causing those he passed through to gasp, shudder, and shriek.

Free of the mob, he continued on, looking around for anything that might give him a clue as to how to contact Malfoy - or indeed, any of his followers. The crowds thinned as he went, and eventually, he found himself in a secluded, shadowed place that appeared to be some sort of park. He heard voices up ahead and floated cautiously towards them.

Under the glow of a street light, he saw a flash of light blond hair standing in a small huddle of perhaps half a dozen youths and felt triumphant. He had found the Malfoy boy! He would be made whole again, and he would get his wand, and he would return here and wreak havoc on all those who had dared offend him tonight!

“Malfoy! I command you, come and kneel before me!” he ordered.

The youths turned around, and Voldemort was hit with a feeling of crushing disappointment. It wasn’t Malfoy, after all. But the sneer that appeared on the blond's face was decidedly Malfoy-like. Perhaps a relative…?

“Your master has returned! Fetch me my wand!” he said, trying to sound authoritative. 

The youths guffawed.

“Look at this old fart,” the blond one said. “He’s shit-faced.”

“Got any money, old man?” another asked, advancing on him menacingly.

“What’s with your ugly face?” a third added, smiling in a decidedly mean way.

“Let’s kick his ass,” a fourth one piped up.

Voldemort floated back, suddenly unsure. What was _wrong_ with these Muggles? They were utterly mad! What kind of hellish time had he landed in? And what had happened to cause it?

One of the boys was holding something in his hand. In fact, they all held them. He turned his wrist, and Voldemort saw it was a can. Abruptly, the youth threw it. The projectile flew harmlessly through the once-feared wizard, landing with a clatter on the footpath behind.

“What the fuck?” one youth muttered.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ad,” said another.

A third threw his can, and his friends followed suit.

Voldemort had had enough. Even Limbo was better than this bizarre and terrifying world!

He concentrated hard, thinking of the nice, safe Nothing. Where no one could attack or mock or laugh. The Nothing started to pull him back into the void. As he once again became mist, Voldemort sighed contentedly.

He was going home. He was safe.


End file.
